


Falling for You (Literally)

by charlesss



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confused Morality | Patton Sanders, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Tired Logic | Logan Sanders, Virgil has wings, Winged!Virgil, Wingfic, Wings, also a minor concussion, but not until later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesss/pseuds/charlesss
Summary: Virgil has wings. He always has.Virgil is a light side. He hasn't always been.Or:Virgil finally gets it through his thick skull that his famILY will love him no matter what.





	1. Roman makes a Mistake™

Virgil yawned, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He sat up and forced himself onto his feet, swaying slightly as his tired muscles started to wake up. Once he felt a bit better, he walked to the bathroom to put on some eyeliner. He had showered the night before, and a warm shower was definitely not going to do him any favors with the whole being exhausted thing. Not to mention showers were a pain for Virgil, what with his wings and all.

 

Virgil winced as he folded them close to his back and trapped them there with his shirt and then hoodie. He zipped it up tight so it would hold them in place, they were feeling extra twitchy this morning and he wanted to be super careful with them to make up for it.

 

After he was done there, Virgil left his room and made his way down to the kitchen, unsurprised to see Patton already awake and cooking breakfast. He did have to do a double take upon seeing Logan sitting there, as he usually got up at 6:30, not 5:45, but then he remembered that Logan had pulled an all-nighter with Roman the night before. Indeed, the bags under his eyes gave away everything.

 

Logan caught Vigil's gaze, bringing his head up from where it rested on his hands. “Coffee?” he asked quietly, and Virgil hesitated, looking to Patton before nodding. “Thanks.”

 

Virgil maneuvered carefully around Patton, trying as hard as he could not to bump him. Patton squeezed in closer to the stove to accommodate him as he gathered the supplies for a quick pot of coffee, silencing Virgil's many quiet apologies as he bumped him or leaned too close.

 

“Sorry about that, Pat,” he grimaced as he caught the box of baking soda, wincing at how close it got to Patton's pan of eggs.

 

“It's no problem, kiddo, I mean it,” Patton smiled, trying to catch Virgil's eye as he pulled out a mug for Logan. Virgil did his best to avoid his gaze, but eventually their eyes met and Patton offered a smile. “It's really not a problem, I don't mind you being in my space.”

 

Virgil, nodded, the tiniest of smiles on his face as he retreated to the table to deliver Logan his coffee. “So, where's Prince Charming?”

 

“Imagination,” was Logan's quick answer. He brought the mug to his lips and sighed in ecstasy as he drank, downing the entire mug in a few gulps. Virgil, who was used to Logan's antics, was already there with the mostly full pot to top him off again. Logan smiled appreciatively, clapping Virgil on the back.

 

“Ah!” Virgil gasped as Logan's hand hit his wings. On any other body part, this would have been fine, but his wings were sensitive, and he would like to keep them out of any sort of danger. That meant the surprisingly hard hits of sleep-deprived coffee addicts too, thank you very much.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you,” Logan frowned, pulling his hand away. Unsure of what to do with it, he let it hover above Virgil's back for a moment before it dropped to his side. Virgil groaned, but stood up, offering the (once again) full coffee mug to Logan.

 

“Hit me again and I switch it to decaf,” was all he said as he paced the pot back in the coffee maker. Logan gasped dramatically, seemingly taking a page from Roman's book. 

 

“You wouldn't!”

 

“Watch me.”

 

Patton smiled to himself, suppressing a laugh as the two went back and forth. He was ready to step in should things get unnecessarily heated, but for now, he could tell they were just joking. 

 

“Patton, tell him not to make me decaf,” Logan whined playfully, setting his mug carefully on the table. He stood up and straightened his tie.

 

“Virgil?” Patton asked, waiting until the emo was staring him in the eye. He looked a bit afraid, and Patton wondered if he had accidentally used his dad voice to catch his attention. Oops. “I think it would be best for Logan if he were to minimize his caffeine intake, don't you?”

 

Virgil's face lit up in a grin, and Logan's paled. He bolted from the room, yelling something about Roman and Crofters and dragons. Virgil shook his head, a small grin still planted on his lips.

 

“He's ridiculous when he's tired,” Virgil yawned, sitting down backwards in the empty chair Logan had left behind. Patton chuckled, grabbing a plate for his eggs. 

 

“You want any?” Virgil shook his head and thanked him for the offer. Patton saw how quickly his eyes fell shut and wondered briefly how much sleep he had gotten the previous night.

 

The answer, of course, was hardly any. Virgil almost always had a hard time getting to sleep and staying that way. Not only was he anxious like, all the time, but his wings made it very hard to find a comfortable position. Plus he had to stay up late cleaning them himself, because God knows the other sides would never want to. They were gross, and Virgil knew it.

 

The thought of the others seeing his wings…. He could just imagine the terror on Patton's face, the anger on Roman's, and most terrifyingly, the morning curiosity that he would find on Logan's. He loved the others with all of his heart, but he often wondered if they would love him once they learned the truth. Would Patton be afraid of him? Would Roman hate him again? Would Logan want to inspect him, tear him apart and put him back together to see just how him having wings was possible?

 

That was another reason he had such trouble sleeping at night, he supposed. He just didn't know.

 

°•°

 

Roman grimaced, his sword slipping from his hands as fire danced around him, swaying and swelling to the sporadic song of chaos. The dragon witch stood before him, a glowing orb hovering above her open palm. She cackled as he stepped back, taking two long strides forward, effectively cornering him against the wall of flames that was once a villager's house. 

 

Logan had told him that trying to go adventuring after staying up for the entire night would be a bad idea. He had even agreed at the time, promising to write down his revelation and get back to his quest after he had attained a full night's sleep. But then he remembered that he made a bet against Virgil saying that he would go adventuring every day for the next three months, and he wasn't about to lose that bet by sleeping through the day and missing his chance.

 

So he decided to go in and complete a small quest, perhaps some puppy rescuing or troll defeating, nothing too challenging. Somewhere along the way, though, he'd gotten lost in his world of stories (as he so often did), losing himself within the endless array of quests set before him. One thing led to another, and now he was fighting the dragon witch in the ruins of his favorite village without having slept for at least 24 hours, if not more at this point. 

 

(Time always moved strangely in the Imagination. Sometimes hours equated only to minutes, other times, minutes in this world were hours outside. Logan had once hypothesized that this was due to how imaginative or inspired Thomas was feeling at the time of questing, but they had never run any experiments to prove this.)

 

“You've got nowhere to go, little prince,” the witch laughed, orb bobbing menacingly above her hand. She grinned and wound her arm back, throwing the orb at Roman with all of her might. Roman gasped and raised his sword to block it, but the orb went right through the blade before hitting him square in the chest. Roman gasped and stumbled backwards, feeling what little energy he had left draining from his system. He dropped to his knees, the image of the witch above him spinning as his eyelids dropped lower and lower. He watched as a pair of boots thudded down in front of him, the sound coming through quiet and distorted.

 

He tried to see who had come to his rescue, but he fell into the dirt, and his eyes closed of their own volition. Roman breathed in the dust, felt the darkness enter his lungs, his blood, his brain, and then he was gone, dragged far away from the burning village and the dragon witch and his mysterious rescuer.

 

He let out the breath, and all of it disappeared.


	2. Virgil Makes an Entrance

A shiver went down Patton's spine and he found himself dropping his forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. The fork clattered against the table and eggs went everywhere, but Patton could only stare ahead in horror. Virgil picked up at the commotion and stared, looking almost concerned. Another shiver wracked his body and Patton flinched, the image of Roman's terrified face suddenly burned into his mind.

 

Something was wrong. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.

 

“Patton? Patton!” Virgil was close to him now, not touching, but hovering, his hand levitating above Patton's shoulder ever so carefully. Patton looked up, focused on him, and spoke, fear shining in his eyes.

 

“It's Roman,” he whispered, and a flurry of emotions crossed Virgil's face before he finally settled on grim determination.

 

“What's going on?” Logan walked into the room again, pausing as he saw the serious expressions on his fellow sides’ faces. Virgil balled his fists, looking at Patton to explain.

 

“Roman is in trouble,” he whispered, his words coming out choked and afraid.

 

“Is it dark sides?” Logan's demeanor had changed dramatically from just minutes earlier, and Virgil could feel the anger radiating off of him. He shivered, knowing that some of it was directed at him. The others had never liked the dark sides, and while Virgil was with them on that from the start, even he had to admit that they were just trying to help Thomas, albeit in the wrong ways.

 

_You're one to talk._

 

Virgil gritted his teeth, resolving to focus on the here and now. Roman was in danger. Roman needed help. Roman was in danger. Virgil had to help him.

 

“I don't know,” Patton said, taking in a deep breath. He stood carefully, anger and fear settling in his eyes as he pushed his chair. He turned to the others, a glare settling on his face that was so unnatural for him, so wrong that it made Virgil's stomach roll in fear. Patton seemed to notice and toned it down a bit, but he was still finding when he began to speak again.

 

“We need to find him, and soon. Logan,” he caught the other side's attention, “you said he was in the Imagination. How long ago was he there?”

 

“About two hours,” Logan estimated, adjusting his glasses. “We can-”

 

“I'll go look for him,” Virgil butted in. The other two turned to him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. He didn't have an explanation that he could share, however, as it wouldn't make sense without them knowing about his wings. He could search the Imagination the fastest out of all of them, and if Roman wasn't there, he could report back fastest too.

 

“Okay, fine,” Patton said finally, shaking his head slightly. “Go, and meet us back here if you don't find him within twenty minutes.”

 

“What if I do find him?”

 

“Then text us, especially if he needs help.”

 

Virgil nodded, his wings twitching nervously under his jacket. He pressed them harder into his spine, hoping the others hadn't noticed the ruffling of his hoodie.

 

°•°

 

It didn't take long for Virgil to find Roman. From his vantage point in the sky, he could see out for miles across the Imagination. He made a mental note to compliment Roman on it later, it really was quite beautiful. For now though, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Logan and Patton, hoping they would be able to get to him and Roman quickly.

 

The prince in question was, for the moment, far below Virgil, standing, back to a wall of flames, in front of the dragon witch. He looked relatively unscathed, but even from his faraway, bird's eye view, Virgil could see the fatigue in Roman's stance. The way his arms and shoulders sagged, the way trembled ever so slightly…. It all pointed to his exhaustion. Roman was usually an advocate for safety, making sure to emphasize it whenever he took one of the others into the imagination, so Virgil couldn't even begin to understand how and why he'd started questing when he was so tired - it made no sense.

 

Virgil watched as the dragon witch stepped forward, effectively blocking all  of Roman’s potential exits, and he hesitated in the sky above the two, unsure of what to do. Neither had seen him just yet, and Virgil was hoping to keep it that way (at least so long as he had his wings out), but Virgil really needed to go help Roman out. It didn't take a rocket scientist (or Logan, the mindscape's closest approximation) to tell that he would not be winning whatever battle was about to transpire.

 

It was here, wings flapping endlessly in the impossibly blue sky of the imagination that Virgil witnessed Roman's fall. The dragon witch flung whatever glowing magic spell she held in her hand right at Roman's chest. Virgil froze as the ball of light arched through the air, cutting through the smoke and dust as it made its way to Roman.

 

A scream was ripped from Roman's lungs as the thing hit home, knocking him to his knees. Roman swayed there, staring up at the dragon witch, and Virgil found himself plummeting out of the sky, trying desperately to reach him in time. He could feel his heart beating, it made his skull throb and his arms heavy with terror as he fell.

 

He slowed himself down right before he reached the ground with a powerful beat of his wings, landing on his feet between Roman and the dragon witch. She stared at him, mouth open wide in confusion and perhaps anger, but Virgil didn't have the time to wait for her to talk. He spread his wings out protectively, glancing over his shoulder to see how Roman was doing. He paled to see him face down in the dirt, but relaxed a little when he saw him still breathing.

 

“Who are you?” the witch finally spoke, another orb appearing in her hand. Virgil watched as it pulsed and grew, curious about how she was maintaining it. His curiosity was replaced with fury as he realized who the orb was meant for. If Patton hadn't had that vision of Roman and if Virgil hadn't hauled ass to find him, that orb would be hitting Roman. He was unconscious on the ground, unable to rise up and defend himself. The dragon witch would have hurt him, perhaps even killed him, with her magic.

 

Virgil's wings twitched behind him, and he had to curl his hands into fists to resist the urge to punch her in the face. It would be quite therapeutic to do so, but then he would just anger her and Roman would be in even more danger. No, Virgil had to play this cool, wait until the others arrived before engaging in battle with the witch.

 

He took a deep breath and forced his taut muscles to relax.. He raised an eyebrow at the witch, then let a smirk fall onto his face.

 

“I'm someone,” he said, forcing a thick layer of bravado into his words, “who knows something you don't.”

 

“Oh, really?” the dragon witch returned with her own smirk. Virgil could feel the fear in her words, though. She wasn't quite terrified, just nervous, but that was all Virgil needed. He silently made thanks that his words had worked, and asked that he would be able to hold out long enough for the others to get Roman to safety.

 

“Really,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. The witch stared, the hand holding the orb of light twitching as she attempted to figure him out. After a moment, she relaxed, a knowing smile spreading on her face.

 

“You're bluffing,” she said, and Virgil couldn't help the way his wings twitched. She shook her head and swung her arm back, releasing the orb. Virgil wondered, days later, if his scream had been what led Logan and Patton to his location. He wondered if Patton had seen him in danger the same way he had seen Roman, or is they were close enough for it not to matter. He wondered if they had seen him fall to his knees and clutch his chest in pain.

 

Then he would wonder if they saw him stand again, wings spread as far as they could stretch and eyes full of determination.

 

“Is that all you've got?” he hissed through gritted teeth, acutely aware of the running footsteps approaching from behind. He heard a surprised gasp, then whispering, then their voices.

 

“Virgil…” Patton was the first to speak, but Virgil couldn't acknowledge it. Not only was he terrified of what Patton might say, he also had to keep them safe, as the witch was already charging up another sphere that Virgil knew would be aimed at one of the others. He could see it in her eyes, the crazed pleasure that she took from hurting them…

 

He wouldn't let her. He couldn't, not when he had the power to stop her.

 

“Get him out of here,” Virgil rasped, beating his wings. The force created a large gust of wind that blew forward, and Virgil used this and the dry dirt of the burning village to his advantage. A wave of dust flew up into the air, hitting the witch full force, and when it cleared, Virgil was hovering above the fire, clutching Roman's sword, his wings beating rapidly to keep him in the air.

 

“V-”

 

“Dragon Witch!” Virgil cut Logan off, knowing that if he spoke, the witch would pay attention to him and not Virgil, and that was the opposite of what he wanted right now. She looked up at him, still blinking the dust out of her eyes, and grinned.

 

“What is it?” she asked sweetly, summoning yet another sphere with which to harm the anxious side. Virgil soared higher into the air with a powerful beat of his wings and held the sword out threateningly.

 

“Can't catch me,” he said, taking her by surprise as he swooped forward. He slashed at her with the sword before pulling up, up, up into the sky, and to his surprise, she followed.

 

“Dragon's in the name, honey,” she yelled, following Virgil into the clouds. “You really think I couldn't follow you?” he wanted to say yes, he didn't think she would follow him, but he was happier with this development. After all, he couldn't attack the others when she was busy attacking him. Speaking of attacking him...

 

She launched another orb at Virgil and like the one before, it hit him right in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and the thoughts from his head. He desperately clung to consciousness, but he could tell from the way the world seemed to spin around him that his grip was slipping.

 

By the time Virgil got a handle on himself, another sphere was heading his way. He swerved to the left and the orb missed his torso but hit his left wing, and fire shot down the appendage. Virgil's vision went white for a moment, though he didn't need to see to know he was falling. He clenched his eyes shut and wrenched them open again, forcing his vision to come back. He froze, watching as the dragon witch flew down towards Roman and the others.

 

Virgil gasped, forcing his wings to carry him again, and he sped toward the witch, sword ready for the attack. She looked up at him just in time to see his face, just in time to see the fury in his eyes. Her own eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak, but the sword had already pierced her torso, driven out the other side by Virgil's anger.

 

“Don't you ever try to hurt them,” he rasped, and the witch gasped, turning to smoke beneath him. The impossibly dark mist was carried off by the wind, and in the back of his mind, Virgil knew that he had won. He had protected them, even if he had risked everything to do so.

 

His wings spasmed and refused to hold him up any longer, and so he fell, sword clutched to his chest and eyes drooping from exhaustion. He felt the wind rushing in his ears, saw the sky growing larger around him, the clouds shrinking above him. Soft hands met his wings and then his arms, chest, head. His eyes refused to stay open and he sighed, letting go of the sword and letting his muscles relax. They were safe. He didn't have to worry, not now.

 

“Sorry,” he slurred, knowing somehow that they would hear, that they needed to hear him apologize. This was his fault, wasn't it? Somehow, he had made this happen. It was his fault, and he would have to pay for it later.

 

The ringing in his ears grew louder, consuming him, and then it diminished, leaving him with surrounded by pitch black nothing. He leaned his head back, and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muahahahahaaaaaaa


	3. They All Make Some Time to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's finally done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to obsessedfanofmanythings on Tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter ♥️

Logan had never been one for feelings.

 

They were just so confusing, so unnecessary, so ridiculous. Why force yourself to go through all those horrible stages of weakness and despair just for a tiny moment of happiness? There was no logical reason to indulge yourself in such awful mindsets, no reason to suffer through that if you had the choice to remain numb to such things.

 

Logan had always diluted his emotions, especially those such as fear, sadness, anger, and the like. He tried to let himself experience happiness more often though, especially after Patton found out what he was doing. It was their compromise - he got to be happy, feel real emotions, but dial down the ones he wasn’t comfortable with.

 

He was not surprised, however, that at this point in time, he was unable to hold back his terror. Tears streamed down his face and stuck to the lenses of his glasses, making the body in his arms no more than a black and purple blur. He could barely breathe, his mouth was open wide and pulling in sporadic, shuddering gasps of air. Virgil twitched in his arms, and Logan sobbed, lifting him closer to his chest. He leaned in, shaking and sobbing into Virgil’s hoodie.

 

Why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he hold his tears back, like every time before this? What was wrong with him?

 

“Patton,” he gasped, feeling a sudden hand on his shoulder. The hand guided him, helped him to stand up, then pulled off his glasses. A moment later, they were slid carefully back into place, and he could now more or less see Patton standing in front of him, Roman strung over his shoulder fireman style.

 

“We need to get them somewhere safe,” Patton sniffled, biting his lip. Logan nodded, unsure that he would be able to form a coherent sentence in response. He turned around, doing a quick survey of the area, then turned back to Patton.

 

Wordlessly, he took a step forward, his legs shaking under him. All at once, he felt his energy leaving him, but his resolve was anything but weakened. He had to help them, had to get them to safety, had to make sure they were okay. Patton would not be able to carry three unconscious sides out of the imagination, especially not when two of them were badly injured. He would be stuck, forced to choose between leaving all of them behind to go get Thomas or taking them one at a time to safety. Logan couldn’t do that to him, wouldn’t do that to him, not after what had just happened.

 

So he took another step. Then another, then one more, over and over and over. _This will be the last one,_ he thought to himself. _You can stop after this one step._ But he did not stop, all the way through the imagination.

 

Even hours later, when they had long since reached the main hub of the mindscape, when they had long since put the others to bed, when they had long since told Thomas about the day’s events, he did not stop.

 

His feet shuffled onwards in his sleep, and he woke up covered in sweat, the covers kicked off of his bed. He was barely awake for a minute before the dark tendrils of sleep took hold of him, pulling him back down into oblivion. Ghostly images of Roman unconscious in the dirt and Virgil falling from the sky filled his dreams, but he kept going.

 

He had to. He had to. He had to. He…

 

°•°

 

He woke up earlier than he was used to.

 

Sunlight filtered into his room the window, his thin colored curtains casting everything in a strange blue light. His head throbbed slightly, and in the back of his mind, there was a thought, an urgent reminder that he couldn't quite reach.

 

He furrowed his brow, concentrating on the thought as he reached for his glasses. As soon as he slid them onto his face, he noticed the odd smudges on the lenses - the _insides_ of the lenses. Tears.

 

_Virgil._

 

A shiver ran down his back and he leapt out of bed, his normal clothes already having replaced his pyjamas. He raced down the hall, the activity not doing his headache any favors, finally stopping in front of Patton's room. The two of them had summoned extra beds the night before so that Patton would know if they needed something in the night (he had assured Logan that he would okay taking care of the both of them, that things would be fine. Logan had eventually agreed and retired to bed).

 

Logan hesitated at the door, his fists hovering above the wood, prepared to knock. After a moment, he did, trying to keep it as soft as possible. A quiet “Come in,” answered him, so he slowly pushed the door open, relaxing when he saw Roman sitting up on his bed. He turned to Logan, wincing as he attempted to wave at him.

 

“Don't do that, you need to stay still for now,” Patton reprimanded, bringing over an ice pack to the injured side. He muttered a quick thanks before pressing it to his forehead and closing his eyes. He then shifted on the bed for a moment, his brows furrowing as the seconds ticked by.

 

“I've been sitting still for half an hour, shouldn't I stretch my muscles?” Roman groaned.

 

“Soon,” Patton said, not bothering to elaborate further. He walked towards the door, smiling wearily at Logan as he passed by. “Watch these two while I'm gone, would you?” he disappeared down the hall without giving Logan a chance to respond, so he just sighed and stepped into the room, taking a seat next to Roman on the bed.

 

“How is he?” he asked after a moment of silence. Roman just huffed.

 

“Patton or Virgil?” he asked, staring at the lump of covers and ruffled feathers laying on the bed across from him.

 

“Both,” Logan answered, his thumbs twitching as they rubbed up against one another over and over.

 

“Patton's been working himself to death since I woke up, trying to get me sorted out. He's been running all around the mindscape, grabbing medicine and juice boxes and ice packs and pillows and whatever else one of us needs,” Roman paused, holding out one of the aforementioned juice boxes to Logan. He took it, setting it down on the bed next to him before letting Roman continue. “Virgil hasn't woken up yet. Patton filled me in on what happened, and….”

 

Roman swallowed, and it did not go unnoticed by Logan how tightly his fists suddenly clenched, or how he had to close his eyes as if to bite back tears.

 

“I'm afraid for him,” he admitted, indeed sounding choked up. “He's been hiding this for so long, and then he got hurt because of me and now everyone knows and he's going to be so afraid when he wakes up,” he gasped, a few tears escaping his eyes. They ran down his face slowly, leaving Logan lots of time to wipe one away, tell Roman everything would be alright.

 

He didn't, though. Instead, he sat on the bed next to him, reaching a hand over to console him. Roman looked up, tear streaks on his face and fear shining in his eyes.

 

“It's going to be okay,” Logan said, but he really wasn't sure.

 

In front of them, Virgil shivered, letting out a long breath of air. His wings twitched, but other than that, he remained ghostly still, the only movement being the methodical rise and fall of his chest.

 

_“Sorry,” Virgil slurred, and Logan felt his heart freeze._

 

“Yeah,” Roman said, taking a sip from his juice box. Logan knew enough about emotions to note the thick sarcasm in his voice. “It's all gonna be just peachy.”

 

°•°

 

There was a rushing in his ears, like he was falling, then a ringing sensation, then silence. Consciousness usually hit him like a mallet, striking once or twice in the night, then once more with maximum power come late morning. Today, though, it was a rushing sound, a ringing sounds, and then no sound at all.

 

He let out a large breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, his entire body relaxing from the action. Virgil realized quickly that he was quite sore, and a few parts of his body hardly had any feeling at all, just a faint tingling sensation and a feeling of being hot and cold all over all at once.

 

His wings were probably where he had the most feeling, although a lot of it was currently pins and needles. He tried moving them, to no avail, and was left floating in this awkward (yet somehow peaceful) state of semi numbness. He tried to relax, go back to sleep, but that wasn't happening either.

 

“Yeah,” someone said, the words coming from somewhere behind him. “It's all gonna be just peachy.”

 

Virgil froze. Who was that? Were they in the room with him? If they were, they must have seen his wings, right?

 

A truckload of memories hit him, and he could barely control his heavy breathing as he remembered the day prior. The fight with the dragon witch, the reveal of his wings, passing out in someone's arms… it all came back, washing over him like a rogue wave of headache material. How was he supposed to fix this?

 

He had really messed up this time, hadn't he?

 

Virgil groaned, forcing his eyes open, wincing as bright light assaulted his vision. He found himself facing a wall, the light blue color being quite familiar to him (he'd spent enough sleepless nights up talking with Patton to know what his room looked like). He took in a deep breath, grimacing as his chest began to regain feeling. His right shoulder and left wing began to throb in pain, though he noticed that it was much improved from what it had been during the fight.

 

He started to sit up, knowing that rolling over would just cause trouble - he really wasn't in the mood to roll onto his wings and damage them further. Once had pushed himself into a sitting position, he turned around, ready to face whoever was there. Might as well get it over with, right?

 

Surprisingly, he was met with two sides - Roman and Logan. Both of them stared at him with varying degrees of shock. Roman looked like he was about to drop his juice box, as it was hanging out of his mouth from the straw. A few bandages were wrapped around his chest, and Virgil couldn't help but wonder if that was his fault for not rescuing him sooner.

 

Logan sat next to him on a bed that Virgil didn't recognize (and, now that he thought about it, he must've been on a new bed too, since Patton's was across the room), looking somewhat frazzled but overall, just exhausted. He did smile after a moment, which was a heartwarming sight, seeing as Logan tended to be less expressive with his emotions.

 

“I'm glad you're awake,” he said softly, so sincere that Virgil almost believed him. In the back of his mind, though, he knew that it couldn't have been true. Everyone he'd known before had hated his wings, told him that they made him the worst out of all of them. Why would Logan just not care? Even he would have to admit that they were unnatural, ugly, useless.

 

“Yeah, I am too, I guess,” he muttered, clasping his hands together in his lap. When would they bring it up? Would they wait, let him heal before they shot him down? Maybe they would just let him come to his own conclusions, pretend that it hadn't even happened. He kind of hoped they would do that, it would certainly make things easier.

 

“Roman, how does your chest feel?” Patton burst into the room, surprising all three of its occupants. He didn't even notice Virgil (or maybe he just ignored him), moving past him to tend to Roman.

 

“It's already doing better, Patton, thank you,” he waved away Patton's hands, pointing to Virgil. Patton spun around, smiling wide as he noticed the winged side.

 

“Morning, kiddo. How're you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” Virgil lied, forcing a small smile onto his lips. It felt wrong, poisoned, but he had to make them believe him. It was no use worrying them over something that he could deal with on his own.

 

“You sure?” Patton asked, cocking his head to the side. “Your injuries were about three times worse than Roman, and even he's in pain - don't look at me like that, Ro, you know it's true!”

 

Virgil bit his lip, nodding.

 

“I'm fine, really,” he assured him, already summoning his hoodie to cover up his bruised chest. “I'm just a bit sore, that's all.”

 

“Well, I'm glad to hear it,” Patton beamed at him, and Virgil felt a bit bad about lying when he saw his smile.

 

“Cool, now I'm gonna-”

 

“Since you're feeling better, though, I think it's time we talked about,” Patton paused, glancing down at Logan for a second, “the wings.”

 

“Oh,” Virgil gulped, holding his hoodie in his lap. He looked down at the lump of black and purple fabric, running his thumbs over it. He took a deep breath, getting ready to tell them that he would understand if they didn't want him around anymore, or if they didn't want his wings out around them. He'd always hidden them anyway, he really wouldn't care if they wanted him to keep doing it.

 

(Well, he would care, but he wouldn't say that - it wasn't fair to them.)

 

“Why did you hide them?” Patton asked before he could say anything. He sat down next to Virgil, turning to face him. Virgil looked down at the floor, unable to answer.

 

“Don't know,” he managed, curling a fist around the fabric of his jacket. “I guess I thought you'd hate them.”

 

There was silence for a moment, thick, tense and consuming silence.

 

Then Roman laughed.

 

“Why would we hate them?” he asked, genuine amusement and confusion on his face. Virgil stared, unable to understand. Why _wouldn't_ they hate them? Only Dark Sides had non-human attributes, like Deceit with his scales, Malice with his claws and Virgil, with his wings.

 

“I'm not like you,” he answered, brows furrowed with a frown on his face. “I never have been, and these stupid wings are just a reminder that I never will be.”

 

“None of us are like each other, Virgil,” Logan said softly, catching his eye from across the room. “I can't process feelings like Patton can, Patton can't create like Roman can, and Roman can't focus like I can. We're all different from each other, so why should we care if you are too?”

 

“But it's not like that!” Virgil shouted, tears threatening to spill out. He shook his head, forcing them down. He would _not_ allow himself to cry. “You guys are all normal, you… You look like people do. Having strengths and weaknesses is _not_ the same as having a pair of wings slapped onto your back to remind you that you're not normal. You guys are different because it's your job, but this doesn't relate to my job at all! I don't need these, and you don't deserve to have to look at them all the time,” Virgil finished, both fists balled in his lap. He shook, holding back years worth of tears and shame.

 

Patton reached a hand out, letting it hover over Virgil's for a moment. Virgil eventually opened one of his hands and let Patton grasp it, bringing it up to eye level.

 

“You do know that we could never hate you, right?” he spoke softly, looking hurt and concerned and just so full of love. Virgil didn't nod or shake his head or acknowledge the question in any way, just looked down at the floor again. Patton hummed softly, bringing his other hand up under Virgil's chin, lifting his face up again. Virgil bit his lip, trying to avoid looking in his eyes.

 

“But-”

 

“No 'buts’,” Roman chimed in, and Virgil turned to face him once more. “None of us could ever truly hate you, Virge, not ever. You're wonderful, absolutely wonderful.”

 

“And what you said about your wings and how they don't relate to your job?” Logan recalled, an eyebrow raised. “It's wrong. You used those wings to protect Roman yesterday when he was incapacitated, and again to protect us when Dragon Witch expressed will to harm us. As the protector of the group, wings would be an invaluable asset to all fight or flight situations.”

 

Virgil opened his mouth to retaliate, then paused, closing it again. How could this be? Did they really just not care, or were they being nice to let him down slowly later?

 

He closed his eyes, pushing away all of the nastier thoughts. He didn't have the time or the energy to worry about it anymore.

 

“Yeah,” he said after a moment silence. The world seemed to slow down as he opened his eyes, looked around the room at his friends. They each smiled at him, and he smiled back, a real (albeit shaky) smile. “I guess you're right.”

 

Later, he would tell Thomas about it, relive his doubts and fears as Thomas processed the story and his feelings. He would relax as Thomas wrapped him in a hug, laugh as the others popped up and joined in, careful not to press up against his injured wings. Eventually he would grow comfortable with them, showing them in videos without much explanation (the fandom freaked out after the first time he showed up with them out).

 

But for now, he would just sit, happy tears streaming down his face, sobbing his heart out with the friends he loved gathered around him. Things would be okay.

 

Everything would be okay.


End file.
